Adrian’s POV
The next morning should’ve been ordinary. I was home later than usual, after barely three hours of sleep on a hospital cot, but I made coffee, read through emails at the kitchen counter, and waited for Elena to wander in, hair mussed, eyes soft. But when she appeared, there was nothing soft about her. She was dressed already, not hurriedly, but with a deliberate, quiet distance that sank into the room like fog.
I set my mug down. “Morning.”
She offered a clipped nod. “Morning.”
I watched her move around the kitchen, opening the fridge, closing it again without taking anything out. Finally, she braced her hands on the countertop, head bowed.
“Say it,” I told her.
Her shoulders tensed. “Say what?”
“Whatever’s simmering, because it’s loud, Elena, even when you’re silent.”
